Wandering Home is one.

happy birthday to the newsletter that started it all

Wandering Home is one year old today! As I said in a recent post, when I launched this in February of 2022, I had shaky hands, a shakier voice, and no guarantee this thing would work for me. That’s the truth.

This newsletter was my answer to making a commitment to myself to write and publish consistently. I’d been banned from Instagram, losing years of writing and posts. I needed a space where I had the agency to write lengthy essays and letters and poetry that could be around for the long haul, without the limitations and distractions of social media. I decided Wandering Home would be the place I’d post as often as I was able in order to share my words, develop my craft and voice, and perhaps build up some readership that would become a new community.

And now, a year later (and 1,000+ cups of coffee later): Wandering Home is one year old. I’ve been taking my writing seriously and showing up as a writer in ways I hadn’t up until the last 12 months. It is one of the things I’m most proud of from the past year and I’m not quitting anytime soon.

Some acknowledgments.

Today I want to take a moment to acknowledge the past year of work and words. (I’ve linked to some past posts within the text, so tap around to read the archives!)

I want to acknowledge those who care to read this newsletter, the 80+ that decided to subscribe (especially the 20+ that subscribed when I wasn’t publishing much or at all on and after Sabbatical) and all who choose to share it. That means the world.

I want to acknowledge the people who believed in me and said “do it”.

I want to acknowledge the people who came into my life this year, never knowing me to not be a writer, and said “please keep doing it”.

I want to acknowledge how this community enabled me financially to take a Sabbatical last year by purchasing my artwork.

I want to acknowledge that I started this newsletter to see if I had it in me to write publicly and it's led to writing a memoir that I hope can be traditionally published someday.

I want to acknowledge that I didn't need permission or a year's worth of proof that I can write, but I have it nonetheless.

I want to acknowledge that I have reclaimed my voice, a true miracle after years of nearly losing it.

I want to acknowledge that I don’t just want to be a writer, I am one.

And I want to acknowledge that the world needs my art.

A year later.

In my very first post, Welcome to Wandering Home: wandering, writing, and beginning, I wrote about my intentions for this newsletter. I’d named this experiment Wandering Home because while the journey of life and being human takes us many places, the beauty and connection we find together along the way of our wandering through is what truly makes the journey home. I didn’t know exactly what I’d be writing about or how often or what form it would take, but as an artist, I knew to trust the process. I knew the stories and the themes would emerge with time and intention. I’d knew I’d recognize my voice when I heard it.

I heard it when I wrote about vulnerability and horsepacking. And communion in Italy. And my aging dog. And Easter traditions. And art as resistance. And Crushing Walls. And chronic pain. And thoughts on home. And balance and rest. And musician Jon Batiste. And the band Bright Eyes. And Ukraine and war. And design’s life lessons. And favorite books. And recently, anti-racism.

A year later, I’m no longer a beginner. A friend and fellow writer recently asked me for advice on starting a newsletter of her own, and in particular about overcoming perfectionism. Here's what I told her:

"Every post, I have to decide if Good Enough is more important to me than Never Published. … It's one post at a time until you get into your groove. In the early stages, everything feels huge - every word, every mistake, every choice. It takes work and time to learn to live with and accept the complexities of sharing yourself and your work. But it does get much easier. So, just start.”

Still wandering.

That’s how it began, and that’s the first step on the way to having done it. Just start. Ask “why not?” – that’s my favorite question (well, second only to “wanna grab coffee?”) It’s how I started my design business 10 years ago. It’s also how I became a photographer 5 years ago. It’s how I decided to get myself in a room with dozens of creative humans on Jen Pastiloff’s retreat in Italy and build a beautiful new circle of friends and writers to support me on this next leg.

The world needs your art too. Are you hanging on to it because it’s not “ready”, not “perfect”, not “good in comparison”? All lies we agree to. Please let me be your example if I’m even just one step ahead. Please let me give you the permission you’re waiting on (you don’t need it, but there you have it.) Please let me be the one who believes in you and says “do it”, as others did for me. You are ready.

I started Wandering Home before I was ready and perfect and good. I’m still not shooting for those things. I’m shooting for generosity. I’m shooting for growth. I’m shooting for sharing beauty. I’m shooting for wandering, because it still fits.

Wandering home is what I continue to learn to do in my writing, in my living, in my being. Wandering home is the journey we take together. What do you say we keep going?

Thanks for reading and sharing. Here’s to many and much more,